The Desert King's Pregnant Bride

He released his hold slowly, looking to ensure she could stand alone. Then he shrugged out of his dinner jacket and draped it over the edge of the spa bath.

Maggie watched his swift, economical movements as he turned and took off his jacket. The frame of his spectacular shoulders, the impressive V of his torso, the classic male form of powerful chest and narrow waist. The wet shirt clung lovingly to every inch of his skin, and her mouth dried, absorbing all that physical perfection.

Fiery heat burned her face as embarrassment sizzled under her skin. Of course he wasn’t interested in seeing her naked! She’d always been gawky and unattractive. A wave of anger and humiliation broke over her, threatening to tug her down into a tide of self-pity.

Rapidly she blinked. She’d known for years she wasn’t the sort of girl men desired. Tonight had only just confirmed…no, she refused to go there. The memory was too raw, too mortifying.

There was a whoosh of water and she dragged her focus back to the present. He’d leaned in to turn on the shower. His black trousers were sodden, shaping long, powerful legs and a tightly curved backside.

Maggie’s eyes widened. Even Marcus, with his laughing blue eyes and his tall chunky build, couldn’t hold a candle to this man for sheer physical perfection.

‘Let me help you with your coat.’ He didn’t wait for an answer. Clearly he was used to being obeyed.

Wordlessly she stood while he deftly slipped it from her shoulders. It dropped in a puddle at her feet.

Maggie fixed her gaze on his black silk bow tie rather than on that vast expanse of wet male torso. But, perversely, the longer she stared, the greater her desire to reach out and tug the tie undone, to part the collar and see whether the flesh over his collarbone was the same burnished gold as his face.

Horrified at the wayward thought, she shut her eyes against temptation. She’d never felt quite so…abandoned. Had tonight short-circuited something in her brain?

She was shocked to realise she hadn’t felt anything like this for Marcus. She’d cared for him, respected him and believed intimacy was the next logical step in their relationship. But she’d never felt this charged awareness of him as a man.

Now she felt edgy, as if her skin had grown too tight.

Was this desire?

Her experience was so limited. She’d spent her life on the farm, isolated by her domineering father and long work hours. That was why her fledgling relationship with Marcus had seemed so precious.

‘Next your dress, then we’ll see if you can manage alone.’ Khalid’s voice was matter-of-fact. Yet he could have been reciting entries in the telephone directory and she’d have listened, enthralled, to his sexy smooth voice.

No! This had to stop. The sooner he left, the better. Then she’d become herself again: ordinary, pragmatic Maggie Lewis. No more flights of fantasy, no more…melting at the mere sound of a voice. This responsiveness to a complete stranger was due to shock and tiredness.

Maggie bit her lip on an instinctive protest as he reached round to the back of her dress. Her hands were so unsteady she knew she’d never manage the zip herself. So she complied, holding herself still as he tugged the zip.

Its downward slide took for ever. Blood pounded in her ears, blocking the sound of the shower. The sensation of the fastening lowering, centimetre by slow centimetre, drew her skin tight in goose flesh. He didn’t touch her but he stood close, arms encircling her, his heat enfolding her.

She swayed then, horrified, caught herself and stood straighter, her spine ramrod stiff.

‘There. Almost done.’ His voice was expressionless, his eyes on the dress as he peeled it gently down.

He might have been undressing a store dummy for all the interest he showed. And that, for some reason, was worse than anything that had gone before.

A shimmer of furious tears blurred Maggie’s vision.

Here she stood, naked but for her brand-new ultra-feminine underwear, and he didn’t even spare her a glance. It was as if she weren’t a flesh-and-blood woman. Not a real one, capable of snaring a man’s interest.

Who did she think she was kidding with her new clothes? Her body was too long, with too few curves. She had none of the sensuality other women took for granted.

The only time men noticed her was at work, for she was good at her job. In the stables she was one of the guys. Didn’t that say it all? Something deep inside shrivelled up. An ache cramped her belly and she hunched over.

‘Maggie? Are you in pain?’ Eyes of fathomless black met hers. His hard, callused hands bit into her shoulders.

‘No.’ It emerged as a desperate gasp. ‘But I need to be alone. Go. Please.’

His gaze raked hers. His mouth firmed into a grim line. Then slowly his fingers loosed their grip and his arms swung to his sides.

‘As you wish.’ Abruptly he was gone, leaving her in solitary possession of the magnificent bathroom.

For a bereft moment she wanted to call him back, ask him to hold her, to protect her from the hurt that welled up inside and the marrow-deep cold that gripped her body.

Then pride reasserted itself. He’d been only too thankful to escape. Besides, she was used to managing alone. That was the way it had always been.

She turned towards the shower, her steps as slow as an old woman’s. She didn’t bother to lock the door to ensure her privacy. There was no need.

Why did the knowledge hurt so much?

CHAPTER TWO

MAGGIE emerged from the bathroom swathed in soft white towelling, an oversized robe that swamped her. She hadn’t even noticed Khalid take her discarded dress. The plush robe was warm against her damp skin. She hiked up the collar and dug her hands into the deep pockets.

For a heartbeat she hesitated in the doorway, then swung round at the sound of his voice.

‘Feel better now?’ Khalid halted a few paces away, legs planted wide in a stance that was intrinsically male. He surveyed her from top to toe. Her pulse hammered hard and loud. ‘You look better. There’s colour in your cheeks.’

And no wonder! Maggie felt the heat sizzle under her skin. She was uncomfortable wearing his robe, but it was all she had to hide her nakedness.

Under his survey the brush of fabric against her bare flesh suddenly took on a new dimension. Tingles rayed out from her sensitive breasts, her stomach, thighs and buttocks as she shifted her weight uneasily.

Or maybe it was reaction to the sight of him, clad in black trousers and black shirt that emphasised his spare, powerful frame. Her glance dropped all the way down past his muscled thighs to his bare feet. Her breath stopped. He even had sexy feet. She hadn’t known that was possible.

Maggie snagged a desperate breath and jerked her gaze up to his, praying he hadn’t noticed her ogling him.

‘Thank you. I feel a lot better. Hot water works wonders, doesn’t it?’ Was she gabbling? For the first time since he found her, she felt truly nervous. She slicked her tongue over her bottom lip as her mouth dried.

‘Come.’ He held out his hand imperiously, and to her surprise, she reached out unhesitatingly. The hard heat of his palm and fingers enfolding hers was strangely comforting. If she could ignore the tendrils of shivery pleasure snaking up from their clasped hands.

He led her into a large sitting room. It should have been overpowering with its gilt-edged mirrors and elegant antique furniture. But it was lit by a fire in the grate and the mellow glow of lamps. The long sofa drawn up before the fire looked cosy with its many cushions and rich red throw rug.

‘Sit.’ He gestured to the sofa. ‘It will be a while before your clothes dry and we can get you home. In the meantime you need to keep warm.’

As she subsided into the soft luxurious cushions Maggie knew there wasn’t any danger of her growing cold. The hot shower, the fire, but most of all the way her blood heated at his touch, made her glow with warmth.

Wordlessly he covered her knees, then passed her a delicate glass in a filigree metal holder.

Maggie inhaled the steam rising from the glass. It smelt wonderful.

‘What is it?’

‘Sweet tea, Shajehani style. The perfect remedy for shock and exposure to the elements.’ He stood before her, his back to the fire. Maggie drank in the sight of him, his imposing frame, his obvious strength, the stance of a man utterly confident and in control. Something squeezed the pit of her stomach. Hurriedly she bent her head to drink.